


don't look away from the arms of love

by BillieJoeArmstrong



Series: Vampire David 'verse [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s05e13 The Hike, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of self-harm, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21751615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BillieJoeArmstrong/pseuds/BillieJoeArmstrong
Summary: Patrick arranged the perfect proposal to his beloved undead boyfriend, David, but not everything goes to plan.The first fic in a series I'm starting, set in an AU where David is a vampire.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Vampire David 'verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567735
Comments: 3
Kudos: 60





	don't look away from the arms of love

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to my good friend [@livelyvague](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livelyvague/pseuds/livelyvague) for beta'ing!!
> 
> Title is from The Forgotten by Green Day (from the Breaking Dawn soundtrack lol)
> 
> Note that there are mentions of self-harm in this fic. It's not explicit or realistic, but please take care of yourselves anyway.

If you had told Patrick a mere three years ago he would be dating and deeply in love with a man, he might have considered the possibility. If you told him that man was an honest-to-god undead, immortal, blood-sucking vampire… that’s when he would have asked what you were on. But here he was, down on one knee proposing to said vampire boyfriend.

Patrick’s knee was sinking into the mud where he knelt, having chosen an overcast day after a night of rain to take a hike up a mountain out of consideration for his boyfriend’s sun-aversion. Still, David held a classy black parasol in one hand, a last precaution against the deadly UV rays, while the other hand gingerly held a velvet box of four gold engagement rings.

“Are you sure?” David sputtered, his fangs on full display as he laugh-sobbed.

“Easiest decision of my life,” Patrick responded surely, standing up and pulling David into a hug.

The crying and hugging and kissing went on for several more minutes, and once the pair of them finally pulled themselves together and popped open a bottle of champagne—and one of another dark red liquid that was decidedly _not_ wine—Patrick offered to switch out David’s silver rings for the new gold ones. He knew without asking that David wouldn’t wear both sets at once—mixing the gold and silver colour schemes would be _incorrect._

“Uhh,” David hesitated, putting down his glass and curling his hands into his chest, a nervous habit he couldn’t drop. “You don’t have to do that. I can, uh, I can put them on.. later…”

Patrick frowned. “If you’re worried about losing them, we can put them back in the gold ones’ case.”

“No, it’s not that.” David shook his head, “and it’s not that I don’t want to wear them, or anything like that. I just– I don’t want you to put them on… me”

“O–okay..” Patrick tried not to let hurt tinge his voice, but it was hard when the man he thought trusted him fully wouldn’t let him be a part of something so monumental in their relationship.

David sighed and flexed his fingers. “Did I tell you where I got these rings?” he asked, fiddling with one of the silver bands.

Patrick shook his head.

David scrunched his face in thought, planning what he was going to say next. “They were from an... old friend,” he started, “not a lover. Just a friend. We fought in revolutions together, back when I was mortal. His father made jewellery. These rings were a gift.” David paused, taking a shaky breath. “He died in World War One.”

“I’m sorry,” Patrick muttered, heart aching the way it always did when David spoke of his past. Letting a man so wonderful go through so much pain felt like a cruel joke for the universe to play.

David shook his head, trying to shake the vulnerability in his tone. “Anyway,” he continued, voice measuredly calm, “I kept them, even after I got turned.”

“And now you don’t want to take them off, because of what they mean to you?” Patrick questioned.

“No, that’s not it.” David sighed. “They’re silver, Patrick.”

Patrick opened his mouth to reply with something sarcastic—a _well yeah, I can see that_ , before it hit him. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” David looked away, suddenly very interested in the grain of the blanket they sat on, running a finger back and forth along it.

“Why didn’t you take them off?” Patrick asked, dreading the answer he knew was coming.

“I couldn’t,” David replied slowly. “We… _vampires_ can’t remove silver when it touches us. But… If I’m being honest, that’s not the only reason. I felt bad, about my friend. That I didn’t protect him, or turn him, or do _something_ to save him. The rings were… a reminder of that.”

Patrick knew _reminder_ didn’t cover what David was doing. _Punishment_ would have been a more accurate descriptor. Patrick was at loss for words—he knew nothing he could say would make up for the century of suffering David had put himself through by leaving the silver rings on his fingers. Instead, he pulled his fiancé (despite the circumstances, Patrick couldn’t help getting excited at the term) into a long, close hug. Though David’s skin was perpetually cold—a side effect of being undead—his hugs seemed to give off a warmth, physically and emotionally.

“It’s not your fault, it was never your fault.” Patrick whispered, his chin resting on David’s shoulder as he held him, “I love you. You’re a good person.”

After a long minute, David pulled back gently. “I hadn’t told anyone about that,” he murmured, “I think, maybe, that was what I needed.” David looked up and took a breath. “I want to take them off… I want _you_ to take them off I–” he paused, “I think I’m over it. Holding onto the past and regretting and… this, _now_ , seems like a good time to move on.”

Patrick gave a melancholy smile, proud and moved but tinged with sadness. “Okay.”

The pair sat still for a moment—Patrick waiting for David to move first. When he did, offering his hand slowly, Patrick took it gently in both of his own and pressed a kiss to the palm. David’s breathing stuttered but he didn’t pull away as Patrick slowly slid the first of the silver rings off David’s finger.

Patrick drew in a sharp breath through his nose, his shoulders tensing in shock then dropping as an intense sorrow washed over him. The skin left where the ring had been was scorched and cracked, coloured deep grey like charcoal. Small blisters bubbled on the surface and would have bled upon contact had David still had blood in his body.

“Does it hurt?” Patrick asked, sliding the discarded ring into his pocket.

David shook his head, “not anymore.”

Patrick nodded, understanding, and continued on to remove the next ring. David’s remaining fingers were in similar conditions, singed and raw, but healing fast once the toxic silver was removed. Patrick pressed a kiss to each wound, one by one, as they mended.

Once the scars were all but faded—a slight discolouration the only reminder of the hundred years of pain David endured by wearing them—Patrick picked up the box of sparkling gold engagement rings and took David’s other hand carefully in his. A smile broke across his face as he slipped the rings on, all but frantic as he couldn’t wait another moment without having a marker of his and David’s love for one another, on display for the world to see. A symbol of the new chapter to come, free of lingering pain and regrets of the past, of a future being built together.

Despite the conversation leading up to this moment, Patrick was overwhelmed with pride as he looked at the four golden rings on David’s fingers and thought about how profoundly _right_ it felt.

When Patrick looked back up, David was staring at him with so much adoration and trust he thought he might explode. It wasn’t a vampire power, granted by demonic energy and centuries of practise, to cause someone else’s heart to speed up and physically ache with love, but when David looked at Patrick like that, it might as well have been.

“I love you,” David said with a shaky smile that showed his fangs. “Sorry I ruined everything. The picnic and your perfect proposal and–”

Patrick cut him off, shaking his head. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he said, squeezing David’s hand, “ _you_ are perfect, David Rose, and I love every part of you.”

“Hmm, even the immortal being of the night part?” David teased.

Patrick smirked, glad conversation had returned to joyful flirting, and dropped his voice. “Oh, especially that part.”


End file.
